


[blink]

by molo (esteefee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-05
Updated: 2006-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky takes a knock to his noggin, and everything changes in a [blink].</p>
            </blockquote>





	[blink]

**Author's Note:**

> [View illustration](http://morganlogan.com/blink.jpg).

[blink]

Pain. Radiating from the back of his head.

Drifts of memories. Hutch's hands on him _. "Starsk. Oh, babe."_ But Hutch didn't touch him like that anymore. He'd put an end to them before they could really get started, right after they got their badges back.

_"I can't do it—can't be **with**_ _you that way and still protect you. Don't hate me."_

_I don't hate you, you bastard, but I come damned close to it sometimes._ The pain stabbed behind his eyes and he moaned, trying to lift his hands to push it back in. But they were trapped. He was trapped in memories like glue.

_"This ain't over, Hutch. This is just you being an idiot. Good thing for us both I'm used to it."_

Hutch wouldn't come over after work for a while, and that was a relief. Starsky found some girls. It was nice to fuck without complications, without the heavy emotions. His dick was happy, even if it left the rest of him cold.

Cold like the cement under his side. He tried to lift his head, but pain exploded along his neck, making him moan. He heard a shuffling noise and made an effort to open his eyes, but it was a lost cause. His head swam again and he sank back into the gray, drifting. He remembered Hutch's voice, harsh and biting when he came to Starsky after leaving Kira's.

_"This your idea of love? One week you're swearing you want me, the next week it's some blonde with poor undercover skills?"_

_"What's the matter? Jealous?_ "

The gray was brightening behind his lids, some light source washing in, but Starsky still couldn't open his damned eyes. He heard the shuffle again, and then a hoarse voice. Jacko, their snitch. Gone bad, apparently.

"How's it going, copper?" Jacko sounded terrified.

 _Copper? What is this, a Hammett novel?_ Starsky tried to make a cutting comment but his mouth wouldn't cooperate, and all that came out was a "Gaah."

"Sorry I had to do you like that, but you have no fucking clue what you guys have gotten me into. I _told_ you to let me come to you. But you hadta fucking follow me in, didn't you?"

 _Sorry kid, no waiting. You were already turning on us, and Klatch and Swann were worth it. We got 'em. Or Hutch did. Didn't he?_ The earlier events were a jumble in his pain-soaked brain.

"I _have_ to give the big boys something. And you're it," Jacko said, still sounding terrified, his voice shaky. "They'll know I dint give nothing up if I hand you over."

 _Moron. You give them a damaged cop and you buy them even more trouble._ But his tongue was still stuck between his jaws, and the pain was throbbing in the back of his neck, making it hard to focus. His hands were cuffed together in front of him, the metal pinching his wrists.

Then he felt his arm being grabbed, and he was hauled along with his legs dragging behind him. The pain swallowed him whole and took him back into the dark.

ooOoo

Hutch ran swiftly down the dim corridor, his shoes almost soundless on the hard cement. He could barely see, but instinct guided his steps. That, or panic. He'd been up and down the various twisted hallways for over an hour searching for Starsky, stopping back after the first sweep to call for backup. Dobey had promised him assistance, including police dogs to aid in the search, but Hutch's anxiety wouldn't let him wait.

Starsky was just gone. And that was unacceptable.

Hutch didn't understand why the damned fool hadn't waited until he'd secured the perps and could join him. But lately Starsky had done a lot of half-cocked things, almost as if he were flying solo. And Hutch did know the why of that. It was his own fucking fault.

He'd been the one to push Starsky away.

_"Don't you get it? Don't you remember when I was with Gillian...when I failed you in the alleyway? How much more impossible would it be if **you** were the one I was sleeping with?_

Starsky had given him a look, though, and Hutch wondered how much he'd believed it. But when Starsky was shot down not too much later, Hutch found out how stupid he had been after all. He'd almost lost Starsky anyway.

 _Coward-coward-coward_ , his footsteps beat the accusation, and he turned yet another corner, this time finding himself back at the open area by the machine shop. A flicker of movement near the open door had Hutch spinning, his Magnum leading. The uniformed officer raised his hands quickly, a leash in one hand.

Hutch heaved a sigh of relief. "Randy. Damn it, took you long enough."

"Sorry, Hutch. We were all the way cross-town on a demonstration. C'mon, Rufus." Randy tugged at the leash and the German shepherd heeled to, giving Hutch a wary look as they approached. "C'mon, boy, you remember Hutch."

Hutch reached into his back pocket and pulled out Starsky's badge wallet. "Found this down there," he said, handing it over to Randy and then waving toward the dark corridor. "Someone's got Starsky, here in the building." Hutch looked up as two other canine officers entered, one also leading a dog.

Hutch saw Randy bend to give Rufus his instructions and watched anxiously while the dog sniffed the wallet.

"Will it be enough?"

Randy looked up. "Oh, he's got the scent all right. Here, Alioto." Randy handed over the wallet and Alioto went through a similar exercise with his dog. "Take us to where you found it."

Hutch led them down the hallway and pointed to where he'd found the badge and gun. He saw both men bend to release the leashes. He didn't see or hear any cue, but suddenly both dogs bent their noses to the ground and started wending their way forward.

 _Please. Please, find him._ An image of Starsky's face flashed across Hutch's mind, one in a million such memories of the quirky grin and the ocean blue of his eyes. They crinkled at the corners almost every time Starsky looked at him, as if a smile were always waiting. _Losing him again. Always losing him._

_Please. Just find him, and I'll make it right._

The dogs seemed to hear his silent prayer, because all of a sudden they leaped forward into movement, the tan of their haunches barely visible as they bolted down the corridor.

The three officers and Hutch sped to follow, Hutch in the lead since he was already familiar with the twists and turns. One of the dogs surged ahead and Hutch followed him. The building was vast, a condemned shipping building on the docks that also had doubled as a machinery for refittings. Apparently the workers here had relied on the same unerring sense of direction that guided them through the large tankers, because there were no signs, just endless corridors and large, vacant rooms. It was the vastness of the place that had made Hutch's heart sink and forced him to abandon his initial search and call for help.

He only hoped they wouldn't be too late.

_Starsky. Where are you?_

ooOoo

[blink]

 _Pain hurts._ That was a fact, and another was he wasn't in Kansas anymore. When Starsky came to again, the smell was different, less oily, more fragrant, like soap and straw. He finally managed to open his eyes, and once they'd stopped spinning he managed to identify a bunch of wooden crates stacked along the wall to his left. A cargo area? The crates looked empty, some of them on their sides, the packing material trailing on the floor like a scarecrow's intestines.

He blinked back the fog and looked up. No sign of Jacko, but he heard a voice murmuring to itself, sounding frantic, the tones echoing crazily. Starsky felt suddenly queasy, and he rolled to the side, preparing for the inevitable. But his stomach eased up again, and he rested his head against the cold floor.

"Never, _never_ should have gotten wrapped up with you cops. Should've known you would screw me over first chance. Put me in Dutch with these guys. Oh, God, I can't go home, and I need a fix. I need it bad."

That was the problem with junkie snitches. They got so unreliable at certain times. Starsky moved his hands in the cuffs, trying to ease the ache. They rattled, and suddenly Jacko was bending over him, the stink of his sweat almost throwing Starsky's gut into convulsions.

"You. Cop. You got any bread?"

Starsky felt frantic hands reaching into his pockets and tried to keep his head from hitting the cement as he was yanked onto his back.

"Two fucking dollars? That's all you got?" Jacko drew back his leg and kicked Starsky hard in the thigh.

Starsky bit back a shout and managed to get out instead, "Well, you know a cop's salary ain't the best."

"Shut up," Jacko muttered. He started pacing again, leaving Starsky's line of sight. Starsky heard a clip-clip-clip, a familiar sound he couldn't quite place, and then a snuffling and a scuffing, and then Jacko was grabbing him, hauling him up and— _shit_ —there was suddenly a cold pinch at Starsky's neck.

The hot blood flowed down. Not a lot, thank God. But he couldn't help jerking backward, and the pinch got deeper.

"Don't _move_ ," Jacko whispered.

And then Hutch was there, pounding into the room, a dog by his side. The dog barked joyfully.

 _Cavalry_ , Starsky thought, and stifled a hysterical laugh.

Hutch came skidding to a stop and put up one hand, the Magnum in the other tilting away. The dog sat and panted next to him.

"Easy, now, Jacko," Hutch said. "Easy."

But Jacko had started shaking, and heat was pouring down Starsky's neck, more than a trickle of it.

"Easy. He wants easy," Jacko spat out. "I need a _fix_ , man. I'm dyin' here." The dog stood nervously at his tone, his tail going rigid.

"I know," Hutch said. "I know you're hurting. Why don't you let me see what I can do for you?"

"You! You're a fucking cop. You can't help me." Jacko moved behind him and for a second the blade lifted from Starsky's throat. He saw Hutch's eyes track the motion, but the moment was too brief.

"I _can_ help you, Jacko. What do you say we make a little deal?" Hutch's voice was even, but Starsky could hear the shake in it just the same, that low breathiness that only came out under severe stress.

_Don't crap out on me, partner. Hold it together._

"I know about you two," Jacko spat. "Two of you don't _make_ deals. Everbody knows it. Everbody."

"I will for him," Hutch said, the words ringing. His pale eyes lowered to meet Starsky's.

_No, babe. No._

"I will for him," Hutch repeated more quietly, and his gun hand dropped.

_He was right. Oh, God, Hutch was right. Blink and it changes, and now he's a sitting duck for any of 'em out there. A sucker for them to play._

"I let him go, you let me go?" Jacko said doubtfully.

"Deal." Hutch said it without hesitation, tucking away his Magnum to look at Jacko expectantly.

Starsky felt the knife leave his throat, and he put his hands up to feel how bad it was. Not too deep, but the cut was still bleeding freely.

Jacko got out of his crouch behind him and took two steps to the right. Hutch kept his hands open and waved him away. By Hutch's side, the dog whined low in his throat.

"Stay, Rufus," Hutch ordered.

Jacko slipped sideways past them, and then Starsky heard his steps tripping away in flight.

Hutch's shoulders dropped. "You okay?"

Starsky clenched his teeth. He felt furious, relieved, grateful and sick to his stomach, all at once. He brushed Hutch away with his cuffed hands and got quickly to his feet.

[blink]

"Buddy, come on. Wake up."

Starsky groaned and opened his eyes, but shut them tight in a hurry when the nausea hit again.

"What happened?" He heard a dog barking, the sound far away. But the dog was curled up next to them. Starsky frowned, confused.

"Looks like you took a knock earlier. You shouldn't have gotten up so fast." Hutch's voice was chiding, but Starsky felt his head being nestled in the crook of Hutch's arm, and Hutch was pressing some cloth against the cut on his throat. "Want to try again, taking it slow this time?"

Starsky started to nod but thought better of it. Instead, he shifted his legs under him, pressing his forehead against Hutch's chest as he was helped to his feet. Together they shuffled out of the storeroom and made their way slowly down one hallway and then another until Starsky was completely disoriented.

"Just a little further, Starsk," Hutch said. The dog bolted, barking gleefully. They turned the corner.

There was Jacko on his belly, a man in a canine officer uniform cuffing his hands.

Jacko glared at them.

"We had a deal! We had a deal, pigs."

Hutch shrugged, his hand tightening on Starsky's arm. "Guess I don't have an ounce of integrity, Jacko."

Starsky winced.

An X-ray, five stitches, and two Tylenols later, Starsky wearily climbed the stairs to his apartment, Hutch right behind him. Starsky left the lights off and collapsed onto his sofa.

Hutch turned on the light in the bathroom and brought him a glass of water. Starsky drank it slowly; his guts were still trying to do the Watusi.

"Take a nap," Hutch said quietly. "I'll round you up something to eat."

A nap sounded good. Starsky closed his eyes. It felt like a minute later when Hutch gently shook his shoulder. He was holding a bowl of soup in his other hand.

"Cream of chicken?" Starsky said hopefully.

"What else?" Hutch waited until he sat up and then handed him the bowl and spoon.

The soup was tasty. Starsky's stomach was cooperating, his cut was only a little sore, and his headache was nearly gone. He felt pretty good, considering.

Then he remembered what had gone down with Jacko. Starsky set the bowl on the coffee table, his appetite fading.

"You made a deal with Jacko." He didn't mean to make it sound accusing, but his voice came out cold.

Hutch flinched and looked away. "Yeah." He stood, shoving his hands into his back pockets. "Guess I'll get out of your hair—"

"You were right," Starsky blurted.

Hutch turned, surprise lifting his eyebrows.

"I mean, you were sorta right, before. But I think today we proved it's already too late, Hutch. For me, too." He had to admit that now. His anger at seeing Hutch cave in had eased when he'd reversed their positions in his head. No way he could take seeing a knife at Hutch's throat. He'd imagined it, while sitting in the ER waiting for treatment, staring at the blood on his hands.

And he'd remembered another time, and another deal with the devil—a hit man who'd been guaranteed safe passage out of the country in exchange for Hutch's life.

"I guess it was too late even before we started," Hutch said slowly. Then he smiled—a strange smile, bitter, but happy, somehow.

Starsky felt it lift his heart.

Hutch came over and sat next to him, resting a big hand on Starsky's thigh. His eyes were shining.

Starsky cleared his throat. "So's that mean what I—"

"Too late, and I'm glad of it," Hutch whispered. His hand moved, creeping up Starsky's leg, and he leaned over for a kiss.

Starsky opened his lips and took him in.

Later, after Hutch had fallen asleep, one arm curled around Starsky's waist, cheek pressed to his shoulder, Starsky stayed awake, thinking back—way back—to his first day at the police academy, when a tall, blond pain in the ass had bumped into him in the locker room after field training.

And in a blink, it was already too late.

  


_Fin_.

December 4, 2006  
San Francisco, CA


End file.
